Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
A fter a bracing early walk around the nature trail, serenaded by birds and with lashings of pine trees, we stopped at a small snack truck by the side of the road.
We demolished a scrambled egg roll each, followed by a mug of tea, before Logan informed me that we’d be going to a place called The Fairy Pools next.
It was around a thirty-five-minute drive to get there, but the time evaporated as we chatted. I realised I’d been too busy talking to Logan to pay as much attention to my phone as I usually would have.
We clambered out of the truck and I was greeted by scenery which wouldn’t have looked out of place in The Hobbit . Majestic hillsides, bottle-green grass, mirrored water… I breathed in the tangy, sunshine-filled air.
My brain was still trying to reconcile that only hours ago, Logan and I had charged back to Portree to check on Rock God, only to find a poor down-and-out man who’d been admiring Logan’s window display—at least, that was his story.
What with our dolphin rescue yesterday, the last few days here on Skye had been anything but boring.
I still hankered after the buzz and bustle of London, the flash of red buses, honking taxis and people haphazardly crossing the streets, I reassured myself. Of course I did.
But Skye was proving to be a lot less mundane than I’d imagined.
And as for the scenery, it was a kaleidoscope of colours and atmosphere that I’d never seen the likes of before. The soaring mountains and myriad shades of green, icy blue and rich mauve were hypnotic.
Only another two and a half weeks here and I’d be returning to the city with its white stucco buildings, stream of noise and endless, snaking shop windows.
‘Darcie! Are you going to start recording and taking some photos, or are you going to daydream for the rest of the morning?’
‘What? Oh. Yes. Sorry.’
I angled my camera, capturing the rush of the waterfalls in front of me.
Logan pointed at them. ‘They’re a series of rock pools and waterfalls, which are fed by tributaries of the River Brittle.’
I panned round again, capturing Logan to the side, while he trailed his fingers under the magical curtains of water. ‘The Fairy Pools here have another name,’ he explained to me through my camera. ‘In Gaelic, they’re called Allt Coir a Mhadouidh , which translates as “burn of the wolf”.’
I found my attention lingering a little too long on Logan and jerked my gaze back onto the scenery.
‘The Fairy Pools are overlooked by the Cuillin mountains,’ continued Logan. ‘This area is popular with walkers and tourists.’
He dazzled down the lens at me. ‘Some brave souls take a swim in the chilly waters here, even on a winter’s day.’ He grinned. ‘Can I tempt you, Darcie?’
I experienced an excited shiver. Was he doing this flirty thing deliberately? ‘No, thanks. I’m not stopping you, though.’
‘OK.’
And with that, Logan began to rip off his fleece, t-shirt and canvas trousers.
I fumbled with my camera. My fingers suddenly felt too big for my hands. ‘What are you doing?’
‘What does it look like I’m doing? I’m going for a dip.’
My eyes burned into Logan’s sculpted muscles as he tossed his clothes onto a nearby rock. He whipped off his socks, leaving himself standing there in just a pair of toffee and white striped boxers.
There was a smattering of dark brown hair on his chest and arms. He had strong, defined calves. Footballer’s legs.
I spotted him grin as I whirled away, turning my back to him. What was I doing?
I fought to rearrange my flushed expression. I’d morphed into some Victorian lady. Get a grip, Darcie! I made myself turn around again, just in time to see Logan slip into one of the pools of swishing, icy-looking water.
He let out a series of comical gasps and noises, but once he grew a little more accustomed to the chilly Scottish temperature of the water, he ducked his head under.
A few seconds later, he resurfaced.
Water was dripping from his stubble and his hair was slicked back from his gorgeous face. ‘Still can’t tempt you?’ he asked.
I found a rock and perched on the edge of it, watching him but pretending I wasn’t. The surrounding cascade of hills were sweeps of olive, purple and moss. Peaks and troughs of clouds nestled in between, but the sunshine was winning through, making the rock pools spangle.
‘Why are they called The Fairy Pools?’ I asked him, trying to move my mind away from the sight of Logan’s muscles sliding up and down his back as he moved.
‘They say the waters possess magical powers.’
‘Like what?’
Logan pushed his slick of hair back again. ‘There’s a story that the chieftain of the clan MacLeod of Dunvegan married a fairy princess. She was known as one of the shining folk.’
‘These clans seemed to get themselves involved in lots of things back in the day.’
Logan’s mouth flickered. ‘Aye. I guess they kept themselves busy.’ He gestured around with one wet hand. ‘That’s why so many places on Skye, especially in the Dunvegan area, have the word “fairy” included in them. Another fable.’
I gave a small smile. ‘So, what happened between the chieftain and the fairy princess then?’
Logan treaded water for a few moments. ‘They were very much in love, but the Fairy King forbade them from getting married. However, after seeing how devoted they were to each other and how upset his daughter was, he changed his mind, but under one condition: they were only allowed to be married for a year, on a trial basis.’
I propped my chin on my hand, listening intently.
‘After the year was up, the Fairy Princess was called back to be with her own kind. But she and the chieftain had a son by this time and her heart was broken without him.’
‘I’m not surprised,’ I tutted.
Logan’s gaze shone. ‘They say she snuck back one night upon hearing her little boy crying, wrapped him up in a silk shawl and comforted him. That’s how the fairy flag got its name.’ He shrugged his shoulders under the lapping water. ‘That’s just one version of the story, though. There are many others.’
He flicked me a look from under his damp lashes and we studied each other as the rush of the waterfalls echoed in the background. I forced my eyes away first.
Logan gave me a playful splash and I squealed.
‘This island is brimming with fairytales and stories.’
‘Oh, you’re telling me,’ replied Logan. ‘Selkies are supposed to be attracted to these pools too. They’re said to disguise themselves as seals during the day and then turn themselves into humans at night, so they can bathe in the light of the full moon.’
Another idea rippled through my mind. ‘F’ for fables and fairytales. This would have to be included in my guide. Readers and tourists would lap it up.
I eyed Logan with interest. ‘Do you believe all this stuff?’
He gently floated in the water. ‘I believe that Skye is something special.’ His eyes danced. ‘And I believe there’s nothing wrong with a bit of romance.’
My thoughts churned. I steered the conversation away. ‘Aren’t you beginning to get cold in there?’
I was relieved when Logan’s mobile erupted in his rucksack nearby. His ringtone was Journey’s ‘Don’t Stop Believing’—quite ironic really and kind of sweet. ‘I’ll get that for you.’
‘Thanks. And could you get me a towel please, Darcie? I’ve rolled one up and stuffed it at the top of my rucksack.’
I hurried over to where Logan’s rucksack was propped against a rock, located his ringing mobile in the front pocket and threw him his towel.
I turned my back again, not that it stopped my imagination from pulling up pictures of Logan emerging, beads of water coursing down his broad chest. I focused on his mobile. A smiley picture of Iona filled the screen.
‘Hi, Iona. It’s Darcie. Your brother is just enjoying himself in one of the Fairy Pools.’
I risked a look over my right shoulder. Logan was patting himself down with his towel and I admired the shape and contours of his sturdy legs. He must’ve sensed me looking and jerked his head up.
I whirled away and burned my gaze into the hills instead.
‘Och, bully for him,’ grunted Iona. ‘Good to know someone’s having fun.’
Hmm. This wasn’t the usual sunny Iona. ‘Is everything OK?’
‘Not really. I’m ringing from the shop. Rhona slept in—again—so I’m covering for her, but it’s like a library in here today.’
There was a charged silence. Then she erupted. ‘I love my brother so much, but there are times…’
I could hear her trying to reign in her frustration. ‘Logan’s a dreamer; a free spirit. He doesn’t want to face up to the fact that Rock God could do even better.’
‘Who’s that on the phone?’ called Logan from behind me.
I turned around. He was now back in his combats, t-shirt and fleece. He gave his wet hair a quick towel rub.
‘Wrong number,’ I joked. ‘No, it’s your sister.’
I lowered my voice, so Logan couldn’t hear and turned away again. ‘You sound fed up.’
‘Och, I’m just a wee bit frustrated.’
I felt sorry for her. She sounded almost defeated, not the usual, sunny Iona I recognised from the past few days.
‘I’ve tried to talk to Logan about undertaking some PR for Rock God , getting on social media and helping increase his profile, but he’s too bloody busy looking for pretty crystals and living in the past.’
I shot a look back over my shoulder again. Logan had laced up his walking boots and proceeded to stride over the swirling grass towards me. ‘Would you like me to have a word with him?’ I gabbled. ‘No doubt, it won’t make much difference, but I could try.’
‘Oh, would you? He might listen to you. Thanks, Ms Freeman. I’d appreciate it.’ She sounded desperate, then grateful.
‘No worries.’ I raised my voice in a theatrical manner. ‘And it’s Darcie. Anyway, good to catch up with you, Iona. Here’s your hypothermic brother now.’
I handed over Logan’s phone to him.
‘What were you two bumping your gums about just now?’ he asked me, one brow waggling like crazy as he accepted his phone.
‘No idea what you’re talking about,’ I breezed. ‘Now, please talk to your sister.’
* * *
After taking more recordings in and around the Fairy Pools, I filmed Logan giving his spiel again about the Fairy Princess and the selkies. Then we stopped at a café nearby for a snack.
It was all polished wooden floors, comfy, sea green tables and chairs and had panoramic windows with views of the hills.
Both of us opted for a delicious warm, buttered, cheese scone and shared a large pot of tea.
We set off back towards Portree later on that afternoon, with the ‘four seasons in one day’ weather still persisting but the glorious sunshine winning out when it wasn’t playing hide and seek with the Cuillin mountains.
My thoughts kept zipping back to my conversation with Iona earlier.
It really did sound like Logan’s shop could do with an injection of publicity.
I slid him a considered look from the passenger seat, as he drove us back in the truck to Portree. His poor sister sounded like she was running out of patience and ideas. ‘Would you ever consider undertaking more promotion or marketing for Rock God? ’ I tried to make my voice sound airy. ‘After all, Iona works in PR.’
Logan sat up a little straighter behind the steering wheel, his fingers wrapped around the leather. ‘Ah. I get it. That’s what you two were gassing about earlier. I thought you looked shifty.’
‘Shifty?!’
‘Aye. So, come on then, Darcie. Out with it. What has my darling little sister been saying?’
I was keen to maintain a casual tone. ‘Iona said the shop is doing OK, but it could be faring even better.’
‘It’s fine,’ he answered, pushing an easy smile my way. ‘It’s doing well enough. Yes, I have leaner days but it all evens out.’
I blinked at him. ‘But you don’t want it to do even better?’
‘Aye. But not at the expense of anything else. Of this.’ He gestured his hand towards the scenery. ‘I like to live in the here and now, Darcie.’ There was another of his charming grins. ‘Customer numbers will improve as the summer season approaches. They always do.’
I took in his chiselled profile. ‘But that can’t and won’t keep you going all year.’ I hoped I was choosing my words carefully. I wanted to sound helpful, rather than accusatory. ‘Don’t you think you ought to consider raising the profile of Rock God ? It wouldn’t do any harm, would it?’
Logan’s brows fenced as he turned this question over. ‘Do you mean by getting involved in that social media malarkey?’
I nodded. ‘Yes. That’s one way and would be a good place to start.’
Logan shook his head as he guided us around the sweeping road. ‘I’d rather walk through Portree starkers.’
I batted away that rather appealing image.
‘Iona’s getting worked up over nothing. She wants to turn me into her little pet project. She knows I’m not keen on all that social media nonsense, but she’s still trying to force the issue.’
I watched the sun strobe through the driver side window and slide down his face. ‘I get the impression it’s a bit more than that, Logan.’
His full lips broke into a winning smile. ‘You two are ganging up on me. I should make you wild camp again as a punishment.’
‘We’re not ganging up on you, Logan. Iona’s only trying to help. She wants to see you succeed. She’s your sister. She cares about you.’
‘And how about you?’ He angled his head round to deliver one of his smouldering looks. ‘Are you trying to help?’
I straightened up in my seat. ‘Of course, I am.’
‘And do you care too?’
I fumbled around for something to say.
There was an electrified silence. Logan sighed. ‘I love Iona, but she can be a bit of a drama queen when she gets going.’ He lifted one hand from the steering wheel and gave his stubble a rub. ‘Things will pick up.’ His light eyes glided my way. ‘They always do.’
‘Most people do use social media in one way or another.’
‘Aye, well, I’m not most people.’
I took in the sexy angle of his peppered jaw. You could say that again.
‘But how are people going to know that Rock God exists, if you’re not prepared to put it out there?’
‘Word of mouth,’ said Logan. ‘Reputation. My stock of gemstones, crystals and fossils speak for themselves. They already do. It’s worked so far.’
‘And how long has Rock God been open?’
‘Three years.’
I was about to try and persuade him to reconsider his view on everything social media, but he diverted the subject, nodding at my phone in my lap. ‘I think this must be some sort of record. You haven’t looked at that thing for at least ten minutes.’
‘Very droll.’
‘It’s true. You’ve been too busy nagging me.’
I raised my eyes up to the soft leather roof interior of his truck. ‘I haven’t been nagging you. Believe me, you’d know if I had.’
I angled myself round more to look at him. ‘Look, I’m not suggesting for one second you start posting what you had for breakfast, but when it comes to promotion and publicity for your business…’
My voice tailed off.
Logan wasn’t listening to me. His attention wasn’t focused on the road ahead either. Instead, he’d slowed down and was squinting past me and out of my passenger side window. ‘Logan? Are you OK?’
He squeezed the brake and slowed down even more.
The Coral Beach was sliding parallel to us now in one long vanilla stretch.
‘That guy,’ murmured Logan. ‘Did you see him?’
‘What guy?’
Logan eased us into the car park and drew to a stop. ‘I’m sure I just saw that bearded guy from this morning.’
Logan peered around over his shoulder, to look out of the back window of his truck.
‘Where?’ I asked. ‘I can’t see anyone.’
But Logan was already pulling his car keys from the ignition and tugging open his door. ‘I’m sure it was him.’ He flashed me a look. ‘Like I said to you before, there was something about him that was familiar.’
I jumped out and slammed my door shut behind me. ‘Hey. Hold on. Wait for me, please, Mo Farah.’
Logan marched on with determination and I followed up the rear. ‘What’s the hurry?’ My curiosity rose. ‘Who do you think he is?’
Logan thrust both his hands into the pockets of his canvas trousers. ‘I’ll tell you in a minute,’ he ground out, his walking boots trampling the fronds of grass. ‘I’m sure I saw him.’
‘Well, even if it was him, he’s allowed to enjoy the scenery.’
‘Yes, he is, but that didn’t look like what he was doing.’
‘What was he doing then?’
Logan studied the landscape again. Then he jabbed an excited finger. ‘There, Darcie. Over there!’
I followed Logan’s pointing finger and spotted a figure wrapped up in a red waterproof jacket who seemed to be surveying the ground around him.
We exchanged glances. Logan was right. It was the man with the dark, privet hedge beard from this morning.
It looked like he was oblivious to our presence, although he soon wouldn’t be, if Logan’s sprinting pace was anything to go by.
Underneath the golden March sky, the man was pacing backwards and forwards in his pair of navy waterproof trousers and boots. He appeared lost in his own world.
I noted something glinting in his right hand. I realised it was a trowel.
As we trampled on, I spotted an old bucket close to him, which appeared to contain shovels, spades, a couple of brushes and a sieve.
The man looked like he was struggling to contain his frustration. With one muddy hand, he scratched at his beard and let out a sigh.
‘Excuse me!’ called out Logan.
The man almost gave himself a nasty crick in the neck as he jerked his hand up to his eyes and squinted through the light, to see where the voice was coming from.
‘You’re the gent who was hanging about outside my shop.’
The bearded man’s eyes widened with sudden realisation. He snatched up his bucket and took off at an impressive speed across the wild grasses, with his clanking tools.
Logan’s mouth dropped open. ‘What the…?’
We watched as the panicked figure made a hasty retreat towards a dark Nissan Frontier truck, threw his tools into the rear of it with a decisive rattle, and roared off.
I turned to Logan and half-laughed. ‘That’s the second time today you’ve chased that guy off. What’s all this about?’
The man’s vehicle was now a dark dot in the distance.
Logan’s brow furrowed. ‘I thought he was down on his luck when we discovered him at Rock God, but he can’t be doing too badly, if he’s driving a vehicle like that.’
‘I agree.’ I indicated the area around us, where the man had been marching around and inspecting only moments before. ‘What do you think he was doing here?’
‘Archaeology, going by what was in his bucket,’ said Logan, scanning about.
I looked at Logan with a quizzical expression.
‘Trowels, brushes, sieves, all standard tools an archaeologist would use.’ Logan gave his head a shake. ‘Maybe I’m mistaken and he’s not who I thought he was.’
‘What do you think he was searching for?’ I asked, pushing both my hands into the pockets of my jeans. ‘And who did you think he might be?’
‘Oh, someone from Skye’s past. Whatever it was he was looking for, he didn’t want to talk about it with us.’ Logan’s mouth twitched. ‘Anyway, enough about strange, bearded men.’
‘That’s rich coming from you.’
He laughed, showing off his white teeth. ‘This is a closely shaven designer beard, not a full-on bird’s nest.’
‘Yeah, whatever.’
We started to make our way back towards Logan’s truck. ‘Anyway, enough about bearded men with buckets. We’ve far more important things to discuss,’ he remarked, rattling his car keys.
‘Oh, yes? Like what?’
Logan’s eyes creased up with mischief. ‘What tortuous activity you’ll have to endure tomorrow.’